


treat me like i treat myself

by Smalls



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: (i know it's hard to believe but i swear it's there), Angst, Canon Non-Binary Character, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Like So Many Feelings, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Past Relationship(s), Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rita is a Good Friend (Penumbra Podcast), Self-Hatred, Trans Peter Nureyev, the first chapter is angst and pain, the second chapter is emotional sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26848048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smalls/pseuds/Smalls
Summary: My name is Juno Steel, former private eye turned criminal on the run, and if you ask anyone with eyes or a mouth, they’ll tell you I don’t have a great track record with relationships.Look, I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.Well, stupid isn’t usually one of them.Okay, it’s more like I make reckless decisions that sometimes have stupid outcomes, but the point is I don’t go out of my way to make stupid choices and I’m not a complete idiot. So I know that not all of my exes were…great. In fact most of them weren’t. And that leads me to my problem.I…may be attracted to abusive people.
Relationships: (past), Diamond/Juno Steel, Juno Steel/Original Character(s), Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 12
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

_I reel back and I can feel the tell tale warmth of blood running down my face. The anger in Diamond’s eyes fades slightly and the hands that reach out are gentler than before._

_“Oh baby, look what you made me do.”_

_Their hands wipe away the blood and I wince at the flash of pain but I press into the touch anyways._

_“See this is what happens when you don’t listen to me, Juno. If you could just listen, then I wouldn’t have to do this.”_

_I nod. Because Diamond is right. Of course this is my fault. They gave me such simple instructions, after all: have dinner ready when I get home. I had hours to get it down and I didn’t. And then, instead of apologising, I had argued. Got defensive and loud and annoying and of course it was my fault. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what happens when I get loud and annoying, but it’s like I couldn’t help but open my mouth. And I can’t close it again until someone shuts it for me._

_They smile and place a kiss on my forehead._

_“Good boy,” they coo and I melt._

—

My name is Juno Steel, former private eye turned criminal on the run, and if you ask anyone with eyes or a mouth, they’ll tell you I don’t have a great track record with relationships. 

Look, I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.

Well, stupid isn’t usually one of them.

Okay, it’s more like I make reckless decisions that sometimes have stupid outcomes, but the point is I don’t go out of my way to make stupid choices and I’m not a complete idiot. So I know that not all of my exes were…great. In fact most of them weren’t. And that leads me to my problem.

I…may be attracted to abusive people.

And, again, I’m not stupid. I used to be a cop and private eye and I’ve seen more domestic abuse cases than I ever wanted to see. I know there’s a huge difference between wanting to get tied up and smacked around in bed verses living in fear of your partner who hurts you at the slightest provocation.

But that doesn’t change that fact that most of my relationship have been…rough at best. And it’s better not to think about the worst.

Growing up in Old Town, it's not like there are a lot of “nice people” to choose from, okay? And, if I’m being honest, I’m not the easiest person to get along with. Not even close, and I sure as hell don’t make a relationship easier. But…

—

_“Mistah Steel! Oh, look at your face! Oh god should I take ya to a hospital?! OH! Was it those thugs for the Harper case? Those guys looked real big, Mistah Steel, and I told ya that maybe you should call in some back up and—”_

_“Could you stop talking for five seconds, Rita. I feel like the only thing holding my head together is willpower.”_

_“That’s it! I’m taking you to a hospital RIGHT NOW!”_

_“Rita, I don’t need a hospital. Just a drink and some goddamn quiet, alright?”_

_“But those thugs—”_

_“There were no thugs, Rita, okay? Just drop it.”_

_Rita went quiet for about thirty seconds, which I’m pretty sure was a record._

_“Mistah Steel?”_

_“What?”_

_“…did you see Diamond last night?”_

_“Rita…”_

_“I just worry about you, Boss.”_

_I swallow something that feels like glass._

_“Don’t.”_

_—_

I wanna say Diamond was the first person who ever got a little rough. Who I _let_ get a little rough. But they weren’t.

—

_“You wanna try something fun, baby?”_

_Her voice is sweet but her hands already tightening around my neck are anything but. I claw at her hands, panic filling my chest when she laughs._

_“Aw, come on. Just be a good girl and take it.”_

_And I do._

_Over and over again._

_—_

Like I said, I try not to think about the worst. Especially when I have someone so much better to think about now.

But it was easier then. God, even Sarah Steel feels better than Buddy and her crime family sometimes. At least back then, I knew exactly what a not-so-smart comment was gonna get me: a black eye and some meaningless apologies.

But here…here there’s code, a set of rules to be followed, because there has to be, right? Everyone has their list of things you can and can’t do, and what happens when you fuck up. And the rules are good because you have a clear pass or fail criteria, so when it all falls apart you don’t have to second guess ‘was this my fault?’ because of course it was.

But god help me, I can’t figure out what the rules are here. Sure, there are chores and tasks and roles to fill. But I can’t figure out what it’s gonna take to wipe that ever present smile off Buddy’s face. To get Vespa to finally snap. To get the big guy to fly off the handle.

To watch Nureyev come to his senses and leave.

—

“Juno? Juno, are you listening to me?”

I blink and force myself to look at Nureyev. God, even when he’s looking at me with thinly veiled worry in his eyes, he’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Oh?” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to his chest. “Anything I should be worried about?”

I shake my head and curl into the gentle embrace. God, he touches me like I’m made of glass. Like I’m, I don’t know, _delicate_ or something and one wrong move and I’ll shatter into a million pieces. And sometimes, when he touches me a certain way or whispers those soft compliments into my hair, I think maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m one wrong move away from breaking apart.

“Juno?”

“No, nothing to worry about. Sorry, what were you saying before?”

“I was asking if you wanted to walk around Argon with me when we stop to refuel. Last time I was there, I went to the most charming cafe and I’d love to take you there.”

I smile and nod.

“That would be great, Nureyev. I’d really like that.” I can feel his smile when he presses his lips against my temple.

“Then we should probably go to sleep, since we have such a big day ahead of us. Although,” His voice drops, low and seductive, “sleep can wait for a moment, can’t it?”

I swallow and tip my head back onto his shoulder in quiet submission. His hand comes up around my neck, but he doesn’t choke me. He just guides my lips to his in a kiss so sweet I can’t breathe. It’s the kind of kiss you know don’t deserve. The kind _I_ don’t deserve. But I’ll be damned if Nureyev doesn’t deserve kisses like that. So I give it my best anyway.

Later, when we’re laying in bed, naked and panting and wrapped around each other, Nureyev hums thoughtfully and traces the hickeys he left down my neck and across my collarbone and shoulders. I hiss when he presses his fingers a little hard into one and he’s quick to kiss away the hurt.

“Sorry,” he breathes against my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to get so rough.”

—

_“You just bring it out in me, baby.”_

_“You’re so pretty when you beg.”_

_“Look at you, just covered in_ **_my_ ** _bruises.”_

_“I didn’t want to hurt you, Juno.”_

_“I’m so sorry, my little monster.”_

_—_

“I know,” I say easily, because I do know. No one ever really means to hurt me. I just seem to bring it out in them. Reach down inside of them and find those ugly dark places and pick and poke and prod until they come bubbling to the surface. And they spill all over me and it’s my fault for making the mess anyway.

“I know.”

—

Venus is a beautiful planet, and Argon is an even more beautiful city. I watch some kids run pass me in the streets. They wear smiles that look carefree instead of mean and they look well-fed in the exact way kids in Old Town don’t.

A few months ago, I would have been suspicious. Started looking over my shoulder and trying to find what didn’t fit. Now, I smile and watch them weave in and out of the crowded streets. Turns out not every place in the universe is like Old Town and not even half of them are like Hyperion City. They’re more than some forgotten town or a postcard city. They’re real and they’re happy and they’re just better. Not perfect, but _better_.

Nureyev slips his hand into mine and smiles as if he can read my mind.

“I knew you would like it here.” I shoot him back a grin.

“Yeah, well don’t be smug about it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, detective,” he promises in the smuggest voice he has. I roll my eyes but tighten my grip on his hand. “Now, this way.”

He leads me down a side street to a small cafe. It’s busy, but not in a suffocating kind of way. No, it’s more like everyone is having such a nice time that no one wants to leave, and looking around the cafe, I can understand why.

We find a table and Nureyev orders every pastry on the menu and insists I get something other than a black coffee. It’s…nice. Sitting across from him, listening to him wax poetics about the taste of everything, our legs tangled together under the table.

It feels…

I don’t know what it feels like, actually. I’ve never been with anyone where it feels like this. Like everything is kinda warm and soft and easy. I think it’s good? It’s probably supposed to feel good. And it does. But, it also feels…

Dangerous. Like the calm before the storm. And I can’t figure out if I’m supposed to enjoy the peace or brace for impact.

I feel like that a lot when I’m with Nureyev.

“As lovely as this has been, love, I’m afraid we should make our way back to the ship,” he says eventually with a heavy sigh. “After all, Buddy won’t wait forever.”

“Yeah, alright,” I agree, standing up and downing the rest of my coffee.

He leads me out of the cafe and we make our way back to the Carte Blanche. The sun is setting now, casting the people and buildings in this warm orange glow. It should make everything seem soft and light but it just sets my teeth on edge. Nureyev tries talking a little but I give him short answers and he eventually gives up. We walk the rest of the way in a tense silence.

Normally, I know what this kind of silence leads to.

—

 _a_ _bruising grip on my waist_

_a hand knotted to tightly in my hair_

_cruel truths hissed into my ear_

_—_

But not with Nureyev. Our tense silences are usually followed by stilted conversations and being left alone to “think things over”.

And I hate it.

I mean, I’m trying to be better, trying to be less like me. And I know it’s better for both of us if we take some time to cool off instead of screaming at each other. But I don’t know what to do when he leave the room and is clearly upset but the next time we talk, everything is fine. Because I know that everything is not fine.

After all, when we first met up after everything that had happened, Nureyev had been angry. He ignored me whenever he could and only spoke to me when it couldn’t be avoided, and even then it was through thinly veiled insults. And that night, at Zolotovna’s party, he was so angry with me, he has practically shaking. Probably from the effort it was taking not to punch me and blow the mission.

So when he comes back after a night apart and is suddenly “just fine, Juno”, how the hell am I supposed to believe that? When the anger is clearly still there? Cause, anger doesn’t just disappear, so it still has to be there somewhere. Just boiling under the surface and at some point, it’s gotta erupt, right?

And yeah, he says he forgives me but what’s an apology really worth, huh? I mean you can only ask a person to forgive you so many times before they realise you’re an eternal fuck-up who isn’t worth your time. And Nureyev and I should have passed that marker so long ago. He should hate me and for some reason I can’t really understand he…doesn’t.

No, he says he loves me and he wants to hold me gently and kiss me softly and _make love_ and—

“Juno, my love?”

We’ve arrived at the ship. I try to swallow the rising panic and nod once in acknowledgement.

“Are you…is everything…” He sighs and reaches for my hand, his eyes pleading. “What’s wrong?”

I almost laugh.

“What’s wrong, huh? How much time you got?”

I can feel the old Juno trying to claw his way back to the surface and I hate it, hate that I’ve already given him this much of a foothold.

Nureyev has this kicked puppy dog look and I hate myself even more.

“Juno—”

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m…I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well and I think I can feel a headache coming on. I shouldn’t take it out on you though. I’m sorry.”

He still has that kicked puppy look, but it’s faded a little.

“It’s alright. I understand. I forgive you, love.”

And I only feel worse.

—

The next few days pass with passionate sex I don’t deserve and sleepless nights that I do. One morning, Rita comments on the bags under my eyes and I can’t help but flinch away from the concern in her eyes. It’s all too familiar. I hide in my room for the rest of the day and my empty stomach almost feels like penance.

Every other day, Nureyev tries to ask what’s wrong, if I’m feeling okay, if he can help. And each time it gets harder and harder not to snap. And every time I want to snap, I hate myself a little more and feel even worse.

It’s…it’s so unfair. I’m finally in a good relationship with a man that I love who loves me back and treats me like a proper lady and I’m gonna screw it all up. Just like I always knew I would.

And two days later, everything goes to shit.

It had been such a good day. The day before we had successfully pulled off a heist so Buddy gives us the day off in celebration. I spend it with Nureyev, curled up in his bed watching some stupid but kinda funny stream Rita had recommended. We laugh and talk through the stream, pausing to kiss and touch casually and it’s so _nice._ When dinner rolls around, we make our way to the kitchen so Nureyev could cook me the one meal he knows how to make and I could laugh at him while he tries his best.

“I can speak three languages, and I know the most popular dances across the Solar planets, and I am a skilled actor—”

“And the toast is burning,” I interrupt calmly. Nureyev jumps and spins to check on the toaster and I can’t hold back my laughter. He turns to pout at me and I try to hide my laughter behind a cupboard, pretending I’m looking for some glasses.

“I am capable at many things, Juno,” he insists. “More than capable, in fact.”

“And I believe you, honey.”

“Oh, make yourself useful and set the table,” he snaps.

There’s no heat to his voice. It’s all pouting and playful and teasing.

I drop the glass anyway and it shatters. Huh.

“Oh, Juno! Love, are you okay?”

I can’t hear him. I’m not on the Carte Blanche anymore. I’m in my shitty apartment in Hyperion City and there’s blood dripping down my face.

—

“ _I told you to make yourself useful damnit! Why is that so hard for you to understand?”_

_The glass shatters against the wall and I flinch. Diamond only looks annoyed._

_“What you think I’m gonna hurt you? You think I’m gonna lose it, like your mother?”_

_“Diamond I—”_

_“You don’t trust me!”_

_“Mommy’s sorry, Juno. I’m so sorry—”_

_—_

“—Juno? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Hands come towards me and I flinch away. The hands stop.

“Juno?”

I blink a few times and look up. Then wish I hadn’t.

Nureyev is looking at me, hands still hovering between us, and he looks devastated. I instinctively move my hand to wipe the blood from my face, then freeze when I realise what I’m doing.

“I…I dropped the glass. Sorry.”

“Sorry…? Juno, _love_ , why would I—?” I take a nervous step back and hit the wall. Nureyev catches the movement and stops. He runs his hand over his hair, his whole body tense.“Tell me what to do,” he begs. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

And that’s enough to snap me out of the past.

“Nureyev, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the idiot who dropped the glass. I should apologise, not you.”

“You’re not an idiot, Juno. A little reckless occasionally but rarely an idiot.” He offers with a small smile that fades when the joke doesn’t land. “Really, Juno, what just happened?” I look away.

“Nothing. I just…my hand slipped.”

“You _disappeared_ , love.” His voice is desperate and I just wanna run, or lash out, or—

“Tell me what happened, please, or—”

“Or what? You gonna hit me if I don’t.”

I wish the words back the moment they leave my mouth. Hell, the moment they form on my tongue.

Nureyev takes a step back, face filled with horror.

“Love, of _course not._ I would never—I _could never_ — why would you even—?”

Sometimes, it’s like I can’t help but open my mouth. And I can’t close it again until someone shuts it for me.

“Oh come on, Nureyev. Of course you would! Have you met me? I mean it’s only a matter of time, right? So why not just get it over with now?”

“Juno, I—”

“What? You’re going to pretend that you aren’t still angry with me sometimes? After all, I almost got us both killed, let you think I loved you, then fucked off. And what? You’re fine with that? You wanna date some smart mouthed asshole who doesn’t care about other people’s feelings, really?”

“Juno—”

God he sounds so….why can’t I stop talking?

“Just hit me! I know you want to, so why not just—”

And his hands are moving.

I flinch but I don’t back away.

His hand covers my mouth and he’s crying.

“Stop, Juno, _love_ , please. Just _stop._ ”

And I do.

Then I run.

—

I’m curled up in a ball on bed, facing the wall. I’m shaking in a way I haven’t since I was a kid, but this time there’s no Sarah yelling down the hall and there’s no Ben stroking my hair. Just the memories shouting in my head and the look on Nureyev’s face haunting me every time I close my eyes.

He tried knocking earlier, but gave up when I wouldn’t answer. So now it's just me. Because as usual, I managed to ruin the one good thing in my life.

God I wanna drink. But I don’t keep anything in the room and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna risk a trip to the kitchen. So I just curl up tighter and dig my nails into the palm of my hands and I don’t cry.

—

Eventually morning comes and I have to go to the family meeting before Buddy comes looking for me. So I drag myself out of bed and resolutely avoid the mirror on my way out.

I don’t need a mirror to tell me I look like hell.

I slink in right before the meeting starts. Buddy nods in greeting and her eyes linger for a moment, but she doesn’t say anything about my appearance and I’m grateful. I’m even more grateful after the meeting when she doesn’t comment on the fact that Nureyev and I sat at opposite ends of the table, or that I didn’t look at him once despite feeling his eyes on me like a brand.

When the knock comes later, it’s Rita.

“Boss? You in there?”

I say nothing.

“Mistah Steel, I know you’re in there so ya better open up, alright?”

A few seconds pass.

“I’ll go get Jet and have him break down the door. He’s _real_ big and strong and he likes me so he’d do it, Mistah Steel!OH! like in that stream “Locked in the Darkness”—ya know, that one about the girl who get trapped in an ancient Martian temple and she’s gotta her out before the angry ghost of the martian king buried there eats her soul or whatever! And her girlfriend is on the other side and is trying to get in, ya know that actress sure is pretty, whadya think she does to get—”

I open the door.

“Rita—”

Then her arms are around me in a tight hug.

“Boss, I was so worried! During the family meeting,you were looking _real_ sad, Mistah Steel, and so was Ransom. And then ya just left without saying a word and it…it reminded me of, ya know, before,” she finishes quietly.

“I—” I sigh and close my eyes. “I really think I fucked this one up, Rita.”

“Mistah Steel…did Ransom…?”

“No,” I say, voice a sob and a laugh. “No, it was my fault.”

She pulls back and gives me the fiercest look she has, which is pretty good actually. I wonder if she’s been practicing with Vespa.

“Mistah Steel, it ain’tyour fault when—”

“No, Rita, it really was. I just freaked and—”

“It doesn’t matter! No one _ever_ has the right to hit ya, Mistah Steel, and if Ransom has a problem with that then I’ll—”

“Ransom didn’t hit me, alright!” I interrupt, opening my eye and looking down at Rita. I walk into the room and throw myself down on the bed. “He didn’t do anything. It was me, okay! I thought…I forgot where I was for a second.”

“Oh, boss.” I hear her footsteps, then there’s a hand stroking my hair.

“I know. But Ransom didn’t do anything and I don’t want you talk to him about it, alright?”

“Uh, Boss?”

“I mean it, Rita. It’s fine. I’m handling it.”

“Yeah, but, Boss—”

“Okay, fine, I’m not handling it, is that what you want to hear?”

“No, but Boss I—”

“God, I don’t know what to do, Rita! I don’t know how to do a relationship like this! And maybe that’s fucked up but that doesn’t make it less true. I have no idea what to do with all the…the… _softness!_ It just doesn’t make any sense! Ugh, why won’t he just hit me and get it over with!?”

“Boss you—”

“Juno?”

I sit up, almost knocking heads with Rita in the process. There in the doorway is a nervous looking Nureyev, hands toying with his end of his shirt. I shoot Rita a look.

“Really? You couldn’t have interrupted?”

“I tried!” Rita protests. “But you were just pourin’ your heart out and what was I supposed to do exactly?!”

“Uh, stop me?”

“I could,” Nureyev interjects delicately, “just go? I clearly interrupted something so I’ll just—”

“NOPE!” Rita says, jumping to her feet and grabbing Nureyev’s arm. He’s so surprised he doesn’t even resist, just lets Rita tug him inside my room and deposit him in front of me. “You two are gonna talk and make up, alright! Cause Mistah Agent Ransom, you make Juno happy and Juno, you deserve to be happy. So I’m not lettin’ either of ya out of this room until you make up, GOT IT!”

We both wince at the shouting but Rita is out the door before either of us can protest. The door slams behind her and I can feel Nureyev’s eyes on me. I sigh.

“How, uh, how long were you standing there?”

“Oh, not too long. Though, long enough, I’d wager.”

“Nureyev I—”

“What did you mean by that?”

“By what?” I look up at him but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at the wall on the other side of the room. I see him swallow.

“You don’t know what to do with the…softness. Do I…does it make you uncomfortable?”

My heart drops and I’m on my feet before thinking twice.

“Nureyev, no!” I take his hand and pull him towards me. “I love you, Nureyev. I, god, I love you like I’ve never loved anyone. You don’t make me uncomfortable and I’m sorry I made you think that.”

He finally looks at me but he doesn’t look like he feels any better.

“Why do you keep doing that?!” he demands.

“Doing what?”

“Apologising for things that aren’t your fault! Juno, I heard you tell Rita you don’t know what to do in this kind of relationship. That you wish I would just hit you and get it over with! My love, why do you—why are you so sure that I’m secretly angry with you?!”

“Because I know you get angry with me!” I shout back. It's like the breaking of a dam and all I can do is watch as everything comes pouring out and sweeps everything away. “I know it! You leave the room and you’re all huffy and then the next day you say everything’s fine and I’m supposed to believe that! I mean, come on, Nureyev. We both know what kind of person I am, and I’m trying to get better—Nureyev, I swear I’m trying to be less like me—but sometimes I can’t help it and—”

“Why would I want you to be anyone else?”

That kicked puppy dog look is back, but multiplied by a million and I kinda wanna throw myself out the airlock.

“Juno, I love you. I love everything about you, why would I ever want you to change?”

“I—you—what!?” I sputter. “You told me part of the reason you decided to try again was because you’d seen how much I had changed, how hard I was trying. And what? Now you’re saying—”

“Yes! Because you had been closed off and distant and had a habit of throwing yourself head first into any kind of trouble without any thought of your own safety. And now, my love, you are trying to talk and think and remember that your life matters, and I love that, Juno! I love that you have changed and become so much better. But I _never_ meant I wanted your personality to change. After all, I fell in love with that smart mouthed lady I met as all those years, I would never want to lose him.”

“Why?” I say with a confused laugh. “Why would you— _how_ could you ever—”

—

“ _Has anyone ever told you you talk too much.”_

_“Would you just shut up for five seconds?”_

_“You fucking asshole!”_

_“Can’t you just snap out of it and have fun for once?”_

_“God, you so annoying!”_

_“How could anyone ever put up with you?”_

_“I thought he was you.”_

_—_

“I love you, Juno, so much, I must admit, it overwhelms me at times. And I would never _ever_ hurt you.” He looks at me, searching my face for something I can’t give him. “Why don’t you believe that?”

“Because everyone who says they love me hurt me. And it’s not their fault,” I add quickly when I see the distress on his face. “I just bring it out in people. It’s like I hate myself so much sometimes it just leaks out until other people hate me too. I don’t blame ‘em though.” I close my eye. “They just treat me like I deserve to be treated, like I treat myself.”

I hear a sharp gasp then the sound of something hitting the floor. I open my eye quickly and see Nureyev kneeling in front of me. I start to lean down, see if he’s okay, when he buried his face in my stomach. He says something, muffled into the fabric.

“Uh, Nureyev, are you…are you okay?”

More muffled words.

“Look, I’m sorry, forget I said—”

“Absolutely not!” Nureyev lifts his head and stares at me with fire in his eyes. “I will not forget what you just said and I will _not_ accept any apologies from you.” My face feels hot under his stare.

“Nureyev—”

“I don’t know who those people were who told you that—that— _filth!_ But it is not your fault! You did absolutely nothing to deserve abuse from people who claim to love you! _Nothing!”_

I open my mouth to say something, anything, then he’s lifting my shirt and pressing kisses against my stomach.

“You deserve nothing but love and affection and, yes, softness. Because you are beautiful, my love. You are good and intelligent and thoughtful, in your own way, and funny and strong and brave, and you deserve the damned galaxy and I will never _ever_ lay a hand against you.” His hands trace my hip bones, lingering on the bruises he left there a few days ago. “God, I’ll never leave marks on you again, if that’s what it takes to convince you—”

“No, Nureyev, I…I like when you leave bruises. I like when you get rough with me. It feels…”

“Good?”

“It feels _right,_ ” I say emphatically. “Like it’s exactly what I need to know that I’m doing it right. That I’m making you happy.”

“Love, you always—”

“Do not say I always make you happy. We both know that’s a lie.”

“Fine!” His grip on my waist tightens and I look down at him in surprise. “Would you like to see me angry, Juno?”

For the first time, I hesitate. On the one hand, yes. Just rip the bandaid off and all that, right? But on the other hand…no. Nureyev is nothing like Diamond, or any of my exes or one night stands. He whispers soft words to me, and reads me poetry, and burns toast when trying to make a “romantic meal”, and steals me trinkets then pouts when I make him return them, and kisses my forehead, and holds me close, and I don’t want to find out that beneath all of that, he’s just like everyone else. Another manifestation of all my mistakes come back to haunt me.

“Juno?”

“Yes.”

Because I've always needed to know.

He gets to his feet and pushes me back onto the bed. Before I can blink, he’s straddling my hips, pinning my arms to the bed. My heart rate kicks up. I’ve been in the position before and I rarely like how it ends.

“I’m very angry, Mr. Juno Steel, and right now you are going to be a well behaved detective and listen, alright?”

I nod once.

“Good. I’m _furious_ that you would compare me to your abusive exes. I’m so goddamn angry that you are still thinking about them while you’re with me, that _I_ must do something to remind you of them.”

My mouth falls open in surprise but Nureyev keeps talking.

“I’m so angry that I never noticed that I was hurting you. No, I _knew!_ I’m so angry that for those first few weeks, I _knew_ my behaviour was hurting you and I didn’t _care_! I can’t _stand_ that I contribute to this kind of thinking. I’m angry that you _have_ this kind of thinking, that people who _claimed_ to _love you_ told you their anger and violence was _your fault?_ I’m so angry I can barely _breathe_! I want to scream, I want to punch a wall, I want to hunt down _every_ person who has _ever_ hurt you and I want to make them _scream!_ ”

He’s panting, face flushed and jaw tensed. I can’t look away.

“ _This_ is what I’m like when I’m angry, Juno. But don't think for one minute that I want to hurt _you_!”

The words are tight and his face is pained and all I want to do is kiss him.

“Nureyev,” I breathe, and it’s a prayer on my lips.

He lets go of me and stands up, running his fingers through his hair. I sit up and watch him.

“I…I believe you.”

He looks at me, question in his eyes.

“I…” I cross my arms and look away. “When someone got angry with me, I was so used to it being my fault. Even as a kid, I would…I would take the blame so Ben won’t get hurt. And when you say ‘it was my fault’ often enough…well, you know what they say about habits.”

“Juno.”

Nureyev comes to the bed and sits beside me.

“And sometimes I really did deserve it.And sometimes, it just felt like I should. And sometimes…it was easier just to lay back and take it.”

Nureyev inhales sharply and I wince.

“And there was always such a calm after the storm,” I say, pressing forward quickly, “something so easy about just following directions and knowing what would happen if I didn’t. It just made sense. And sometimes even the pain felt like love.”

I finally look at him.

“That’s why I don’t know what to do with the softness. It’s been a really long time since anyone loved me softly.”

He stares at me with something like wonder in his eyes. He reaches for my hand and I let him. Nureyev lifts the hand to his lips and place a tender kiss against my knuckles.

“If you’d let me, my dearest detective, I would be honoured to remind you what it feels like.”

“O-okay,” I say, stupidly flustered over the gesture. He smiles, sharp and soft all at once.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing my hand again.

And I melt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i decided after all of that, that Juno deserved nice things. and i decide the "nice things" are really good emotional sex. so that what this is. also Nureyev is trans and I use masculine coded words when referring to his genitals.

The next few days are filled with talking.

 _A lot_ of talking.

We talk about us, times one or the other has screwed up—“no one screwed up, Juno. That’s not how this works”— _been angry_ and figured out what to do in the future. We talk about my exes and Sarah and the scars left behind, Nureyev holds me tight and I pretend not to cry. We talk about words or actions that frighten us—loud sudden noises, unexpected touch, sirens, blood—and the memories they hold. When Nureyev talks about Mag, I hold him tight and pretend not to cry when he does. We talk about sex—things we’ve done in bed that _we_ haven’t tried yet, things we’ve done in bed that _we_ will _never_ try, things we never wanted—and that time I don’t pretend not to cry.

It’s also an emotional couple of days.

So it’s about a week or so after everything blew up, then put itself back together, before Nureyev kisses me gently with those silk lips and asks, “Juno, may I love you softly tonight?”

My head spins and my heart races at the words, but in a really good way and I nod, reaching for him. He shakes his head and holds my hands, pressing soft kisses to them.

“Words, love. I’m going to need words from you tonight.”

“ _Yes,_ please?” He smiles and kisses me again, deeper but just as gently. I melt into his touch, revelling in this new found gentleness.

Nureyev had never really been rough with me. It wasn’t his style. There had never been bondage or choking or insults. But he had left bite marks, and bruises on my hips, and a tight hand in my hair. And I had always liked it, really I had.But _this_ , this slow gentle seduction? Well, a lady could get used to this. Hell, a lady could fall in love with this.

“May I remove your clothes now, dear?”

I want to scoff and roll my eyes, maybe make a crack about him moving too slow, but the way he’s looking at me, earnest and delighted, running his hand down the front of my shirt is really doing it for me. So I nod and say, “yes.”

“Thank you, love.” He beams at me. Then he pulls off my shirt and put his hands on my shoulders. I brace myself to be pushed back onto the bed, but he lays me down instead, soft and sweet. Then he pulls off my pants, leaving me in my lacy panties. I stare up at him and my throat closes when I see his eyes. His gaze is sweeping over me as if he can’t get enough.

“See something you like?” I ask, shooting for teasing confidence and missing the mark by a mile.

“Yes,” he breathes and leans down, pressing a kiss against my heart. “I see something I like _very much_.” I swallow and wonder if he can feel my heartbeat fluttering beneath his lips.

“G-good,” I manage and Nureyev laughs, warm and amused against my skin. Then he continues pressing kisses across my chest, up my neck, and finds my lips for the briefest moment before moving down again.

I’m panting lightly and I can feel myself getting hard. God, a few tender kisses are getting me hard. He travels down my chest, never biting—only kissing and mouthing, until he reaches the waistband of my panties.

“May I?”

“I…I already told you yes,” I complain, eager for him to move on, but Nureyev shakes his head.

“I need to hear it again, love. Remember this is all about you.”

“Fine,” I groan impatiently. “Yes, please take—”

But Nureyev wasn’t asking permission to remove them. He mouths at my dick, straining again the fabric, and I cry out, arching against the sheet. His hands come up to hold my hips down in a grip that is strong but not bruising. Then he does it again, sucking and licking and ruining my panties completely. Oh well. They weren’t my favourite, anyway.

“Oh, look at you, my love,” he coos, when he pausing from driving me out of my mind. “So flushed and pretty for me. You look like a painting, dear. Like a masterpiece.”

“I guess it’s…been a while…since you’ve seen one,” I pant, but he tuts in disapproval.

“No deflecting, my dearest. If I say you look like the finest masterpiece, the most delectable feast, like a goddess just waiting to be worshipped, then, I’m afraid, you must simply agree.”

I can’t help but moan and try to thrust my hips up again. Nureyev grins widely and strokes my dick through the fabric.

“Oh, do you like that, my love? Do you like hearing me compliment you, praise you, adore you?” He looks at me with a thoughtful look that often means trouble, then adds, “ _Worship_ you?”

I whimper and the smile grows.

“Ah, _that’s_ it, my love. You want me to worship you. Bow before you and offer my praises and adoration to my beloved _goddess_?”

“ _Please._ ” I don’t know if I’m asking him to shut up or keep going. He laughs again and pulls off my panties.

“Your wish is my command,” he assures. Then he bows his head and swallow me down.

It takes all my willpower not to buck up into that incredible heat. I bite down on my lips to hold in the scream of pleasure threatening to overwhelm me. Nureyev doesn’t tease, or suck. He just holds me there in the back of his throat, and when I finally manage to open my eye and look at him, he wears a look of complete bliss. Like the only thing he’s ever wanted to do is deepthroat me for hours. Like he’s never been more satisfied than when his head is between my legs. Like…

Like he’s a devotee receiving a benediction from his goddess.

I slam my eye shut, desperate to cut of the visual stimulation that my brain can’t handle right now. My hands fumble blindly for him, and he takes mercy on me, guiding my fingers to his hair. I don’t pull, but only barely. Instead, I tangle my fingers in the soft hair and ground myself against the onslaught of pleasure.

He swallows around me and a cry is ripped from my throat. He hums, pleased, and swallows again. And again. And again.

It feels so good and I’m crying from the pleasure and the strain it’s taking not to fuck his face.

“Nureyev, _Nureyev, I—_ ”

He pulls off for a moment and I sob.

“Do you want to come in my mouth or on my face?”

His voice is wrecked but he asks so earnestly, as though the only thing he wants is to please me.

“ _Nureyev.”_

I don’t know what I’m asking for. I just know I need it now. I need _him_ now.

“Is it too hard to think, love? I understand.” He sucks on the head of my dick, humming thoughtfully. “I think I’d like to swallow. Let you fill my mouth. How does that sound, my dear?”

“ _Fuck._ ”

“Quite so,” he agrees. “Go on then. You can come, love.”

And with a sob, I do.

When I come back to my body, he’s still sucking lightly on my dick, and lapping at the head. I shudder, body overwhelmed, and he looks up.

“Ah, there you are! I’d missed you, my dear.” He moves up to kiss my lips, and I can taste myself on his tongue. It’s intoxicating. Eventually, the kiss ends and he smiles softly at me. “Would you like more, my goddess, or are you all tired out?”

I whimper quietly and Nureyev laughs.

“I’m going to have to remember that one,” he teases. “Is that a yes?”

“Uh, what…what did you have in…in mind?”

“If you were amiable, I was hoping to make love to you. Ride you nice and slow, feeling you fill me up, and tell you how wonderful you are and how good you make me feel. Is that alright?”

I close my eye and tell myself to breathe.

“That…uh, that sounds…doable,” I stutter. Nureyev raises an eyebrow.

“Only doable,” he mocks. “Well, if you’d rather not…”

“No!” I sit up and pull him in for a kiss, wet and messy. I pull back and he almost looks as dazed as I feel. “That sounds incredible, perfect really. Let’s do that.” He laughs and kisses me again, softer than mine was.

“As you wish.”

He stands and begins unbuttoning his shirt and for the first time, since he whispered in my ear, I realise he’s still dressed. The realisation that he took me apart so easily without even removing so much as his shoes makes me feel even more weak-kneed than I already am.

I watch wide eyed as more of that smooth skin is revealed. I wanna get my hands on him. I want to kiss and touch and make him squirm. But a bigger part of me, a part that’s been ignored for so long I forgot it exists, wants to lay back and be admire for once. _Worshipped_ as Nureyev says. He looks over at me and smirks when he sees me watching.

“Do you see something you like?” Nureyev teases. I swallow but nod.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” I feel shaky and overeager, like I haven’t in years, but I notice Nureyev’s hands tremble as he pulls down his pants. I relax a little. It’s good to know I still make him feel a lot.

He climbs onto the bed, straddling my hips and I shiver at the feel of his skin pressed against mine. He rolls his hips once and I can feel how wet he is already. I wonder idly if it’s from sucking me off, and my dick twitches in interest.

“That’s right, darling. It’s all for you,” Nureyev coos, as though he can read my mind. “Just looking at you gets me so wet. Your beautiful, strong body. Your fingers in my hair. Your eye, nearly black with lust, and _oh,_ the look on your face when you’re finding your pleasure. You’re simply _divine_.”

“ _Nureyev._ ”

He slips a hand between his legs, toying with his dick for a moment before sliding a finger inside.

“Oh, _Juno_ , I can’t wait to feel you inside me. You always make me feel _so_ _good_.”

My hands move to rest on his hips, wordlessly encouraging him to keep going.

“Oh, is there something you want, Juno?” he ask breathily as he continues grinding down on my lap.

“I—I just want to touch you,” I admit quietly. The teasing look in his eyes fades and is replaced by something infinitely softer.

“Oh, _love_ , of course you can touch me.” Nureyev takes one of my hands off his hips and rests it on his chest. “Please, touch me, darling.”

I move my hand over his heart, feel it beating almost as fast as mine. I trail down to his nipples, twisting them lightly and feeling a surge of satisfaction when his rhythm stutters for a moment. My other hand joins to run my fingers over his sides and I grin when he squirms.

He’s so goddamned beautiful as he opens himself up for me, checks flushed, skin glowing with sweat, and gasping for air between “ _Juno, oh, yes, yes_ ”. I’m _so_ hard for him, and I reach between his legs and run my fingers over his dick, glancing up for approve. Nureyev shudders and arches into the touch.

“ _Yes_ , you can touch me, love. _Oh_ , that _so good.”_ He slips two more fingers inside and groans as I rub his dick. He’s so wet and I want to get my mouth on him so badly. I grab his hips and pull him forward suddenly. Nureyev falls on top of me, letting out a small cry of surprise, but I keep guiding him until I can get his dick in my mouth.

“Juno— _oh.”_ Whatever protests he had dies as I suck his dick like I’m dying for it. I move mouth a little lower so I can slip my tongue inside him, and I feel his thighs shaking.

“Juno, Juno, _Juno,_ ”

He’s panting, nearly fucking my face and I love it. Then I feel fingers in my hair, and he gently guide me away. I whine but obediently follow. Nureyev’s chest is heaving as he stares down at me, fingers still in my hair.

“Not that…that isn’t… _incredible, love_ ,” he says, gathering his composure, “but I…I did have a plan.”

I give him my best pleading look.

“I just wanted to taste you. You looked _so good,_ riding your fingers like that, and squirming so _prettily_ and I just wanted a taste.”

Most nights, Nureyev would cave for a line like that. Not that it's _really_ a line. I mean, he does look gorgeous when he starts squirming, like his body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. Normally, telling him that leads to him fucking my face just the way I like it, messy and wild.

Tonight, apparently, is not most nights.

“Well, next time you can taste me for hours, darling,” —and _god_ isn’t that an idea— “but tonight,” and he scoots back, lining himself up with my dick, “I’m going to ride your gorgeous cock nice and slow, remember?”

He sinks down on my dick, moving so slowly I wanna scream. He takes me about half-way, then stops and shudders before lifting himself completely off me.

“Nureyev, come on,” I groan but he hushes me and sinks down again.

“I’m afraid you can’t rush me tonight. I intention to give you the thorough worship you deserve,” he lifts off me once more, grins wickedly and adds, “my _goddess.”_

Then he sinks down and takes all of me.

“Oh _god,_ ” I whimper, grabbing his hips and trying to thrust up into the tight heat. He takes my hands and pins them to the bed, intertwining our fingers. The sight of it makes my heart swell.

“Juno, my love, my goddess,” Nureyev says, looking me in the eye with an expression that’s serious and tender all at once, “you said you would let me love you softly. And I desperately want to do so. However, if you’ve changed your mind, or are uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

I flush. I’m…embarrassed. Embarrassed that I can’t follow his instructions, embarrassed he can see through my impatience and bravado so clearly to see my discomfort and insecurities. And…I’m embarrassed by how much I want to lay back and let him to worship me.

“It’s fine,” I mutter, turning away slightly.

“Ah, ah, ah, eyes on me, darling.” I reluctantly look back at him, my face burning hotter. “I’m afraid ‘fine’ isn’t good enough, tonight. Do you want me to love you like you deserve to be loved?”

I swallow and, much to my mortification, I feel tears start to gather in my eyes.

“Juno?”

Nureyev’s face is a mix of surprise and concern, and he starts to pull away when I choke out, “please.”

He stops and looks at me carefully, wiping away one of the tears.

“Please what, Juno?”

“Love me…like I deserve.”

The words barely come out a whisper but Nureyev smiles with a look of adoration and pride.

“I’d be honoured, my love.”

He kisses me, with so much sweetness I’m at risk for cavities and all the tension just melts out of my body. He pulls back after a minute and smiles.

“Can I ride you now, my goddess?”

“Yes…please.”

He sits back and releases my hands, placing them on my chest instead to brace himself as he sinks back down and slowly lifts himself up and down. It feels so good but my hands clench, feeling too empty now.

“Nureyev, will—” Then I stop myself, feeling stupid and needy.

He pauses to look at me. “Yes, love?”

With his eyes on me,I just feel more stupid. But I manage to say, “Will…you hold my hands again…like before?”

“Oh, _my goddess_ ,” he breathes, and takes my hands again. And the next time he sinks down, my hands tighten around his and it’s perfect.

“ _Oh!”_ I cry out, struggling to keep my hips still, fighting the urge to chase the pleasure.

“You feel so _good,_ ” he breathes. “You fill me up perfectly, darling.”

“ _Nureyev_.”

“Yes, so perfect. _Oh_ , I wish you could see how beautiful you look. You look every bit the goddess, my love, and how I _love_ to worship you.” He speeds up slightly, but still, somehow, just as gentle. “You were made for it, my goddess. Made for, _uh,_ pleasure and, _oh!_ adoration.”

I thrust up instinctively, his words and body driving me slowly out of mind. He gasps and shifts slightly.

“ _Oh_ , yes, right _there.”_ He stops to grind down on my dick, letting it rub against his sweet spot for a moment. “Yes, you always know _exactly_ where to touch me. How to make me feel _incredible_.” He starts bouncing again, faster than before, then visible slows himself.

“Nureyev, _please._ ”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I forgot myself for a moment. You make it so easy to just lose myself in the pleasure, darling. But this is about you, isn’t it. I should focus on that.”

He speeds up again, gripping my hands tighter.

“ _Yes_ , my love. _Oh,_ I need to focus on y- _you_. My darling, it’s _so_ hard. I should taste every inch of you, maybe suck your cock again, see how we taste together,” —I throw my head back and moan, and Nureyev laughs—“but I’m afraid I’m _so greedy_. I don’t want to give up the feeling of your cock inside me for, — _oh, Juno—_ even a moment. Can you forgive me, my goddess? _Please?_ I swear I’ll worship you properly. I’ll spend— _oh my love!—days_ taking you apart so slowly and— _yes, yes right there—_ then put you— _ah!—_ back together.”

I’m meeting his thrusts now, but he doesn’t scold me. He's too busy losing himself.

“Tell—tell me more,” I beg, too far gone to be embarrassed now. “Nureyev, _please_. _Tell me more._ ”

“Oh, my goddess _divine._ You, exquisite, _brilliant, impossible_ creature. You’re so _strong—ah! ah! ah!—_ and beautiful, so _damned beautiful,_ and clever, my darling, _so clever._ I love you more than…than the stars themselves, Juno. _Yes!_ More than the air in my lungs. I love you.”

He’s taking me fast and deep, and I can feel the heat building.

“ _Again_ ,” I demand, beg, plead. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” he cries obediently, and he tightens around me. “I love you, I love you, _I love you, only you, I love—Ah!”_

His whole body shakes and he leans over me, grinding down frantically on my dick, still gasping out, “ _only you, my goddess, love you,”_ over and over again.

I keeping fucking into him, desperately chasing my own release. I watch Nureyev come back to himself, take a settling breath, then start to bounce again.

“ _Nureyev, yes, yes, please,”_ I cry, tears gathering again as I get closer and closer.

“Yes, my love, yes, go on, take your pleasure. You deserve it, please, oh goddess, keep going.” His words are slurring together, and a part of me knows he must be so sensitive and overstimulated by now but I can’t stop.

“ _Nureyev_ , I’m— _ah_!”

I thrust up once, twice, threes times, and then with a sob, I’m coming.

—

When I open my eye, Nureyev is curled up around me, pressing gently kisses to the back of my neck and shoulders.

“N-nureyev?” He hums against my skin.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, dear. How do you feel?”

I close my eye as I think for a moment.

“ _Warm,”_ I settle on and I can feel his smile.

“Good.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, suddenly worried.

“Oh, Juno, I’m _perfect_ ,” he assures. “Never been better.” I laugh a little and turn in his arms.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his chest, and I feel his arms tighten around me.

“I only loved you like you deserve. No need to thank me, love. ”

I nod, then fall silent for a moment.

“Can…can we do it again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading friends :)


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